


Over The Moon

by Mirimea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Awkwardness, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Snippets, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimea/pseuds/Mirimea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a werewolf is not all that bad, but it can be pretty inconvenient at times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of snippets that was posted separately on tumblr, so they’re not really designed to create a coherent storyline, but it felt better to post them here in one big story rather than in separate short chapters. Several snippets are based on prompts I received so I’m giving the credit to those individual prompters. The original idea is from tumblr user sinisterspooks and some ideas may be inspired by headcanon discussions on their blog. Please tell me if you feel like I've stolen anything! 
> 
> Furthermore, this is a weird little story and basically meant only as little bit of fun. :D

 

_It will then be seen that under the veil of mythology lies a solid reality, that a floating superstition holds in solution a positive truth._

         - Sabine Baring-Gould, The Book of Were-Wolves

 

It is a bit like there is a tiny seed inside of him at all times, and the closer Kevin Price is to the time of the next full moon, the more of the seed is starting to spire. If anything it is exhilarating, almost freeing, if somewhat inconvenient at times. The wolf becomes territorial the more it grows and sometimes it makes the human petty, or angry, and while his old school used give him the day before the full moon off, they never did tolerate bad behavior, even if instinctually wrought.

And when the moon rises the sprout finally breaks the surface and the wolf is out, while the human is instead contained in a new seed. It doesn’t hurt at all to transform. His mind is turned inside out, but his body changes smoothly.

It has been a part of him ever since he was born, just like it has been a part of his entire family. Maybe it is not the most common condition, but it’s not _bad_. By the time he is a teenager, most of the people in his small private school have asked everything they could possibly wonder about it all, and no one seems to think much about it anymore.

Kevin gets a lecture from his dad the night before he leaves on his mission, about pack mentality, about how people might view transformation differently in different countries, and about how it is important that he is respectful and open about his condition to his fellow Elders.

(There are also a few awkward comments about the avoidance of female wolves in heat, because fathering a litter of full-wolf puppies is just an awkward and complicated issue, and Kevin prefers to pretend that he hadn’t heard those words ever uttered by his father.)

He smiles and squares his shoulders, eager to show just how grown-up and responsible he really is. “Don’t worry, dad. Things will be just fine.”

“I’m sure they will, son.” His dad pats him on the back. “I’m sure they will.”

And that’s that.

Sort of.

* * *

Kevin very pointedly ignores the squeaky toy ball until Arnold gives up and tries to _take it away_ , and suddenly it is like something sharp is tightening in his chest because Kevin is not a dog and certainly doesn’t care about _dog toys_ , but it is bouncing on the floor and so obviously _his_ (and he is totally lying because he plays with toys and balls all the time with his siblings at home and he is a nice wolf so sometimes he even lets them win the tug-o-wars; _sometimes_ ).

Arnold yelps when Kevin tugs the toy from him, holding his suddenly empty hand to his chest as though he thinks that Kevin would ever actually bite him. “Sorry! It’s your ball. Got it.”

Arnold smells of nervousness, but mostly of amusement, and a surge of pride forces Kevin to let the ball drop to the floor, except he makes sure to keep himself between it and Arnold. He watches it carefully until it stops rolling. It’s _his._

He hears and smells Elder McKinley approach long before he enters the kitchen; Kevin lowers his head and wags his tail a little. Elder McKinley is their leader, after all, and for lack of another alpha…

“He transformed already?” Elder McKinley says, exasperated. “It’s not even dark outside.”

Arnold shrugs helplessly. “Maybe the new time zone confused him?”

Kevin continues to wag his tail apologetically until McKinley finally yields and reaches down to scratch him behind his ears. And Kevin doesn’t usually have many other people around to scratch him (the cons of being from a family of werewolves) but it feels nice, and affirming, and Kevin thinks he could get used to it.

He doesn’t know why he had transformed so early. Maybe it truly is the time difference, but really, it’s not like the full moon isn’t there even when it’s light outside and it just keeps _tugging_ at him. And maybe being away from his family during a full moon for the first time in his life is throwing him off since he doesn’t have his mother or father or rein him in and keep him grounded.

He whines quietly, leaning his head into Elder McKinley’s touch. He doesn’t quite understand facial expressions when he is like this but McKinley _smells_ like the sight of a smile feels to human Kevin.

“Good boy,” Elder McKinley says to him, and then the scent of his smile turns into amusement, too. “You bought him a dog toy?”

“I thought it would help us bond,” Arnold says, voice defensive and just a little shrill. “I’ve never been around a werewolf before.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture when he turns back,” McKinley says. Human Kevin would have frowned, because he is not too far gone to know that he certainly will _not_. But then McKinley’s nails dig into the skin behind his ear is a way that feels _just right_. He stretches his neck to give him better access.

“You’re really not a very threatening wolf, are you?” McKinley says, smelling of amusement and smiles again. And Kevin can’t reply, of course he can’t, and words aren’t that important anyway, but his tail wags a little and he thinks, _pack_.

* * *

Connor had freaked out, just a little, when he had learned that one of the new missionaries was going to be from a werewolf family. They had _not_ covered alternate species in his leadership classes and besides, Connor doesn’t even know that much about werewolves and he is not exactly in a position where he can easily google it or do a library run. He suspects that most of the stories he has heard about werewolves are probably myths, but who knows, really?

So in the end, Connor doesn’t know what he had expected, but it is certainly not _this_.

Elder Price transforms the first time roughly two weeks after he and Elder Cunningham had arrived in Uganda; all warm brown fur and doggish mannerisms, and for some reason he takes to following Connor around like a shadow. It is confounding, and he thinks that Elder Cunningham might even be a bit jealous of the attention Connor receives, so he tries to direct the wolf to go play with his mission companion for a while. But maybe the fact that Connor has no experience either with werewolves, regular wolves or even dogs is entirely obvious, because Elder Price merely looks at him uncomprehendingly, tail thumping against the floor.

“Stupid dog,” he mutters, and wonders if Elder Price can even understand him at this point.

That night, Elder Price follows him into his bedroom and makes himself comfortable on Connor’s bed and it ought to be the last straw, but Elder Price is too large to push off the bed and in the end Connor simply gives up and resigns himself to sharing his bed with a wolf for the night.

Another thing that Connor had never expected is waking up the next morning with a naked boy sleeping next to him on the bed.

“Oh gosh,” he says, staring at the figure next to him and tries to turn it off, really has to try _hard_ because Elder Price is sleeping on top of the covers and his nakedness is finely highlighted by the first rays from the rising sun peeking through the curtains. He is definitely not a wolf anymore.

Elder Price stirs, moves his legs lazily (his thighs are toned and pale and delicious), and opens his eyes. He blinks as he meets Connor’s eyes, glances down for just a quarter of a second, and hides his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Elder McKinley.”

Connor averts his eyes, hopes that his staring hadn’t been too obvious. “That’s… quite alright.”

He offers Elder Price a blanket to cover himself with; the other Elder accepts it gratefully. “Weird things are logical when I’m a wolf,” he says, speaking quickly. “You’re the leader so I wanted to stick close, I think.”

Connor has never considered that maybe his responsibility as a district leader extended for him to be a substitute pack leader as well, but maybe that is how it works.

“Well, you should probably go and get dressed before Elder Thomas wakes up,” he says, trying not to sound flattered. “You can, ah, borrow the blanket if you want.”

“Thank you,” Elder Price says, and carefully wraps the blanket around his body before padding, barefoot and silent, towards the door. His ears are red.

Connor watches him go, mournfully, wondering why the Lord keeps testing him.

* * *

It must be the lack of a proper pack that is throwing him off, Kevin thinks as they are approaching his second full moon in Uganda. Both his physical and mental sensitivity to the lunar cycle is out of control in a way he hasn’t experienced since early puberty and he can’t blame the time differences anymore, not really, because his body ought to have adjusted to that by now. But maybe the fact that he seems to be the only werewolf in the area plays a part in it, maybe Kevin’s body has always been used to syncing itself to his family members as much as to the moon, and now that he is left with only the moon every instinct that he has is working itself into hypersensitivity.

It drives him up the walls for several days before the actual full moon. He can feel the transformation somehow fluttering in his chest at all times, threatening to tip over at any moment, and part of him thinks that it would be so _nice_ to just give in. And sometimes he can’t resist it, which is entirely humiliating.

Kevin hasn’t transformed accidentally since he was a kid. He feels ridiculous for it, hates finding himself entangled in his own human clothes as though he is a stupid puppy, and right now, he especially hates _ties_.

The short-breathed barking sounds are human laughter, he recognizes, and it makes him grind his teeth together while he jerks his head, tries to use his paws to scratch the shirt and tie from his neck.

“Are all werewolves like this?” Elder Thomas asks from the kitchen table, fork still gripped in his left hand. “I thought it would be more… dignified.”

“I thought it would be cooler,” Arnold says simply. “It mostly just seems inconvenient, you know?”

It had been the scent of the cooked chicken they would be eating for dinner that had thrown Kevin off and into his wolf mentality, probably. The stupid piece of fabric around his neck is nearly choking him, he scratches at it ineffectively (stupid thumbless paws) and the feeling of someone approaching him to sort of hover above him feels threatening enough for him to growl—

\--and then hunch down, ears suddenly flat against his head, because he had just growled at Elder McKinley, apparently, and Kevin has absolutely no desire to challenge the current leader of his semi-pack.

Elder McKinley, for his part, barely seems to have noticed the growl. He smells of confusion but mostly in a friendly, comforting way, enough for Kevin not to feel uncomfortable when McKinley reaches down to fiddle with the clothes still stuck around him.

“Don’t laugh at him,” McKinley chides, and Kevin is sinking so deeply into the wolf mentality that he doesn’t care about the meanings of words anymore, only about the soothing tone of his voice. He relaxes, forces himself to stand still until McKinley has managed to tug the too-tight clothes from Kevin’s body; Kevin shakes himself off when he is finally freed.

The chicken still smells delicious, in a mouth-watering, all-consuming way, and if it hadn’t still been in the cage that Kevin knows is an oven, he would probably have snatched it and run. As it is now, the laughter still coming from the humans around the table is putting him on the edge, so instead he gives his head a final shake and lets his restlessness win over hunger.

He turns and slips out of the half-opened front-door to run off some steam (and possibly catch a rodent or two).

* * *

Elder Price's eyes are lighter when he is a wolf, almost amber-colored, and Connor is slowly getting used to it. It is difficult to relate the wolf to the boy, they seem to be two different entities that are sharing the space a little, except not quite, because sometimes there are flashes of recognition. Sometimes the wolf blends with the boy, and sometimes the boy blends with the wolf, and it is strange to watch, almost disorienting, but also comforting in a way.

Connor would not really put the word "contact-seeking" in relation with human Elder Price, but the wolf certainly is, confoundingly so. And Connor has never been very fond of dogs, not really, but Elder Price is so sweetly pliant around him as a wolf, it is difficult not to find it charming.

"And at least you don't slobber," he says while he runs his fingers through the fur on Elder Price's neck. Elder Price lets out a low sound from the back of his throat, almost like a mild growl, and Connor feels himself flush when he realizes what he just said; wonders for the millionth time if Elder Price understands human speech in this condition. They never really talk about it, strangely shy around each other once Price is back to himself. And perhaps, for Price's part, it is a way of rebuilding his dignity somewhat after losing scraps of it every full moon.

"Sorry," Connor says, just to be sure, while he stands up. "Of course you don't. Want to go out, or go to bed?"

Elder Price stands up when Connor does, stretching his hindlegs lazily. He looks at Connor for a short moment, then at the door. Connor sighs quietly (but maybe it is just as well because it is entirely too warm to share the bed with a large wolf) and walks over to open it, watching Elder Price slip out into the night.

* * *

"But _why_ the howling?" Elder Church insists, unusually impatient. "Can't you just go and swallow another rat or something?"

Kevin feels his ears and neck heat up at the reminder. Before Uganda he had never really been allowed to go outside much during at full moon simply because there is no good way of keeping an entire pack of wolves safe in the middle of the city, with all the people and the traffic. Even going out in the backyard had been considered risky and Kevin had only been allowed out after he had turned fifteen as a sort of coming-of-age privilege.

The closeness to nature in Uganda is wonderfully strange.

The first time Kevin had transformed he had hunted rats and mice with embarrassing, puppyish glee. Several months have passed since then, and Kevin still wakes up the morning after a full moon with the taste of shrew-mice fouling the inside of his mouth. He continuously wonders why the wolf can’t seem to remember how disgusting they are, and he doesn’t even want to _think_ about the contents of his stomach.

And the _moonlight_.

The lack of streetlights in the village makes the moon seem somehow more intoxicating than it has ever been before. It _pulls_ at the wolf. On clear nights he can barely look away. And if he howls, well, that is just because he _needs_ to do it. It calls for him, so he calls back.

"It's just... a thing," Kevin says, rubbing his neck, because some things are just not worth trying to explain. "And don't think I've forgotten that you threw a shoe at me last month, Elder." It had hit him on the nose; he had woken up with a bruise.

"I thought you'd dodge it," Elder Church says, but doesn't look very sorry. Kevin resists making a face at him because he is supposed to be a grown-up now.

He usually retreats to his and Arnold's room before moonrise; and the moonrise is one of those things he could never accidentally forget about. His entire being is aware of the cycles of the moon at all times, how close it is to the earth, exactly what its position is in relation to the sun and the earth. The full moon pulls at him until it becomes a relief to transform. The wolf feels the longing, but at least it is guilt-free acceptance of it.

Even so, transformation is entirely private business, if only because it is just so much easier to be naked in preparation for it, but mostly because losing control like that is mildly terrifying around people that aren't family.

"No throwing things," Elder McKinley says, mildly reprimanding, before turning to Kevin. "Please try to keep the howling to a minimum, however. The rest of us want to sleep."

The wolf feels both guilty and strangely soothed by the instructions. Kevin pushes the feeling down; the thought of Elder McKinley being his pseudo-alpha at the moment is entirely awkward when Kevin is still in control of his human mind. The closer he gets to the full moon the more responsive he feels himself become to Elder McKinley's voice, smell, movements, and especially his expressed wishes. And Kevin's human and wolf minds keep bleeding together, making it so difficult to keep instincts and rational thought separate.

"Yes," he says, much more meekly than he would during a new moon. "I'm sorry, Elder McKinley."

"That's fine," Elder McKinley replies cheerfully. "I guess you can't help it."

The wolf inside him wags its tail in embarrassed agreement; Kevin hates himself a little for knowing that it is true.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat, trying to force himself to stop blushing. "I guess I should go get ready."

"Have fun!" Elder McKinley says, smelling of fondness and perhaps a little bit of concern.  And the wolf is already eager to please him, so Kevin tries to give him a smile before retreating to his and Arnold's room.

(Before he closes the bedroom door, the wolf very easily picks up Elder Church’s muttering about how he will be throwing more than just shoes the next time, but Kevin decides to be the better man and ignore it.)

* * *

Connor has exactly three minutes to worry between the moment he realizes that Elder Price had not come home last night (there are lions, hyenas, hippos and a multitude of other dangers) and when Elder Price comes limping up to their cabin, barefoot and wearing a pair of borrowed shorts and a ratty tank top. And even though Connor hides his smile behind his hand, Elder Price gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look before grimacing and plucking what looks like a scrap of a feather from his mouth. He stares at it for a moment, morosely, before letting it fall to the ground. 

"Are you alright?" Connor asks, and tries to pass off the hand in front of his mouth by scratching his cheek with his thumb. It probably doesn't work, because Elder Price's eyes narrow slightly.

"I owe Sister Mamdani two hens," he says, voice scratchy. He clears his throat before he continues. "And one chicken."

"Oh my," Connor says, feeling his face heat up with the effort of holding his laughter in. "Why in the world?"

"They _cackled_ ," Elder Price says, sounding miserable, and Connor gives up and begins to chuckle. "I woke up when Sister Mamdani dragged me into her house. By my _ear_ ," he adds, and Connor has to admit that his left ear does look a bit reddened. But maybe that is just the intense blush that is rising on Elder Price's face. "At least I could borrow some clothes from her son.”

"Oh my," Connor repeats, once his laughter is under control. "Well, we'll pay for them somehow. Just... go inside and take a shower, okay? And brush your teeth," he adds when Elder Price plucks another feather from his mouth. He looks pretty miserable, still, so Connor pats him on the shoulder. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. No one else is awake yet, just take a shower and no one will know."

Elder Price ducks his head, a gesture that looks strangely sweet from someone as tall as him. "Thanks," he mutters, meets his eyes hesitantly for about a millionth of a second, before heading up towards the cabin.

And usually, Connor finds it difficult to see similarities between the boy and the wolf, but right at this moment, he is certain that if Elder Price had been a wolf, his tail would have been firmly tucked between his legs. He snickers quietly and shakes his head.

* * *

The air smells of rain and of something wild and dangerous, and Kevin feels it like a buzz beneath his fur and skin. As a contrast, the air inside the cabin feels so dry his eyes almost hurt and he can feel his heartbeat begin to speed up in his chest. He tries to stretch out on Elder McKinley’s bed, but it gets too warm and he is forced to curl up on the floor beneath it where it is cooler. It means that Kevin won’t be able to keep track of Elder McKinley’s breathing or the small sighs he sometimes lets out on his sleep, and it makes him restless.

He tries to fall asleep, his nose buried in his tail for comfort, but the distance from his human keeps the wolf unhappy in a primal, dissatisfied way. And besides, Elder McKinley had not offered to let him outside this evening the way he always does, and Kevin doesn’t understand _why_.

Finally he can’t stand it any longer. He stands up to change position and curl up again, but then gives up and pads over to the closed bedroom door. He almost expects Elder McKinley to be awake and to abide Kevin’s needs without question, but then he stands at the door for a moment without reaction from the bed, so he whines, softly, hoping not to wake up Elder Thomas who is sleeping in the other bed, nor, more importantly, Elder Church in the other room.

After a moment there is another crack of thunder and Kevin whines again, louder. And after a moment the figure in the bed stirs; Kevin stomps his forelegs against the floor restlessly until Elder McKinley is finally standing up and walking towards the door.

“What’s wrong?” Elder McKinley mumbles while he cracks the door open, and he smells of sleep and moves groggily. Kevin nuzzles into his hand, then slips out through the door and heads towards the front door.

“No,” Elder McKinley says as he follows, voice scratchy with sleep. He is barefoot and wearing only his temple garments, which looks nicely cool in the frowzy night. “It’s raining outside.”

Kevin understands the words, sort of, but mostly he understands the tone of Elder McKinley’s voice. He ducks his head and whines again, but his pseudo-alpha ignores him and stumbles over to the couch to sit, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Kevin abandons his position by the door and walks up to him, resting his head on his thigh.

“Don’t give me the puppy-eyes,” Elder McKinley mutters, even as he lets his hand rest on Kevin’s head. “There’s a thunderstorm outside. It could be dangerous.”

Kevin wags his tail hopefully, but can feel the scent of Elder McKinley’s denial before it is even voiced. Something inside of him is stretching itself thinly as it tries to reach the full moon and the rain and the wind. Another part of him is attuned to his alpha, calm and sleepy and comforting. And because apparently Elder McKinley is not going to open the door for him this night, maybe Kevin will have to resign himself to a full moon spent like when he was a puppy and not entrusted outdoors at all.

He sighs against Elder McKinley’s knee, leans into the fingernails that scratch that pleasant spot behind his ear.

“Jeez, Elder Price,” Elder McKinley mumbles sleepily. “No, Kevin, right? Just go to sleep. I’m tired.”

Kevin’s ear twitches at the sound of his first name, which he hasn’t heard in a while; somehow it reaches his human self as well and he feels guilty for waking Elder McKinley up like this, for being unable to control his distress.

He stands up again, Elder McKinley’s hand falling to rest on his thigh, and he walks in a half-circle before he gives up and instead climbs onto the couch. He curls up, sighing, and finds a position where he can rest his chin against Elder McKinley’s thigh again.

”That’s right,” Elder McKinley says. “Just rest for a while.”

And Kevin can hear every breath he takes and how they slowly even out while Elder McKinley falls asleep on the couch, lets that become his comfort while he drifts off himself, dreaming of running freely outside in the rain and the thunder.

* * *

Sister Atubo’s new dog is carefully submissive around Elder Price, and it would be almost touching to see the way it crawls with its belly pressed against the ground whenever Elder Price is near, if it hadn’t also been so funny. Especially since Elder Price appears almost haughty around the dog, as though somehow feeling the need to assert his dominance.

“Is it afraid of you?” Connor asks one early afternoon while they are enjoying their lunch outside in the shade of the trees.

Elder Price glances at the mutt that is straying around the edges of the shade, as though it would like to join them but is unsure of if it is allowed. “No,” he says, begrudgingly. “He is just… showing respect.”

“Can you speak with dogs?” Arnold wonders, eyes wide as the thought hits him. “What is it saying right now?”

Elder Price frowns. “No. Because dogs don’t talk.” He speaks slowly, as though to a small child. “He is literally just showing me how friendly he is.”

“But it’s not like you’re a very dangerous wolf, either,” Connor has to say, amused. He shouldn’t be poking fun, not as a district leader and all, but since he is the one that seems to accidentally have become more involved in the whole werewolf business than the rest, he feels like he has slightly more right to do so than any of the other elders.  

Elder Price’s cheeks turn pink. “Well. I don’t really have a reason to be.”

Connor wonders if he, too, is remembering the way he had chased his own tail last week, violated rule 55 by cooling himself off in the nearby pond and given Connor a few quite spectacular, wet wolf-kisses, before he had finally turned back into his human self. He can’t help but grin at the memory, reaching out to pat Elder Price’s knee fondly.

“I guess you don’t,” he says.

* * *

At least three of the Elders around the table have not yet showered today, and it is close enough to the full moon that Kevin can feel the smell of teenage boy sweat with frustrating intensity while still having enough human sense to consider it unpleasant (and does Elder Neely _ever_ wash his hands after using the bathroom?). He is too polite to mention it, of course, but definitely not restrained enough to keep from wrinkling his nose.

The oatmeal they're eating for breakfast is blander than usual and the Wolf is bored of it, is restless, and its ears are twitching, waiting, because--

The knock on the door is inherently expected on his part, but it still makes something twist inside him and he has got this, seriously he _does_ , and manages to bite back the transformation before it truly starts. Sort of. Kevin can still feel his canine teeth grow bigger and the wolf ears twitch as they grow, and it kind of itches, but the frustration turns into a growl.

Elder Church chokes on his oatmeal at the sight, while Elder McKinley simply looks exasperated. Kevin feels his face heat up, brushes a hand over his face self-consciously and tries to force himself to turn back. Half-transformation is so sloppy, and not very pretty.

" _Cool_ ," Arnold says from his left side, and when Kevin glances at him his mission companion’s eyes are burning with an intensity that is usually reserved for when he talks about that TV-show he calls Firefly. "Now you look like a _real_ werewolf."

He runs his tongue over his teeth. "...Excuse me?"

"Yeah, well." Arnold has the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I mean, like, in cool movies. Not the Twilight stuff." When Kevin continues to look at him blankly, he shrugs. "Never mind, buddy. Keep doing what you were doing."

"Is anyone going to open that door?" Elder McKinley says, sounding mostly annoyed that their breakfast had gotten interrupted, then stands up to do it himself. And Kevin feels himself tense up, even though he _knows_ that it’s just Sister Mafala behind the door, but she’s not _pack_ and that makes her an intruder. On the other hand, Elder McKinley is the one to open the door, and if Kevin can’t trust his alpha to take care of it, then who can he trust?

He ducks his head at the warning glance Elder McKinley gives him (how had he known that Kevin is trying to keep from snarling?) before opening the door and letting Sister Mafala inside. She gives him a strange look but doesn’t comment, as though finding half-transformed werewolves at the kitchen table is not outrageous at all, before stating her errand.

And finally, Kevin manages to turn himself back into a full human again, and once Sister Mafala’s errand is taken care of, they all resume their (terribly bland) breakfast.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Connor mumbles sleepily.

After several months of waking up with Elder Price draped around him in various positions around the time for the full moon (and sometimes on random occasions that Elder Price can’t or doesn’t want to explain), Connor is getting strangely accustomed to the feeling of sharing his bed with another boy. He has even learned to be prepared with extra blankets to cover up Elder Price's body, once he transforms back. (He _had_ learned not to try and put covers over in him wolf form, however, because the wolf will get warm, annoyed, stretch out on the floor instead and Elder Price will mutter about his wry neck for _days_ for come.)

This sensation, however, is new. Elder Price's breath against his neck, which makes him shiver, not unpleasantly, when Elder Price then moves closer to nuzzle into the space between Connor's neck and shoulder, just above the neckline of his garment shirt. 

"You smell good," Elder Price mutters against his skin, sounding half-asleep still.

"Excuse me?" Connor asks, as a sense of decorum returns to him. He might be getting used to the routine, but Elder Price is still naked beneath the blanket, and he is a warm presence curled up around Connor's only half-dressed body. They have broken pretty much all the missionary rules concerning sleeping quarters far too many times for it to be a real concern, but if there is a way of breaking the rule even more intensely, this would probably be the way to go.

"What?" Elder Price replies, sounding more alert. He pulls away, leaving the spot of skin feeling colder than usual.

Connor hesitates, feeling his face flush as he considers doing it, then carefully begins to turn around in the bed. He has never done that before. The time they spend in that pleasant, relaxed half-asleep state may have increased throughout the months, but once they are alert enough to converse Elder Price usually takes that as the cue to slip away. But today, Elder Price's arms around him merely loosen to accommodate for the movement.

"Do I really? Smell good, I mean?" Connor asks curiously.

Elder Price's face is closer than expected. And it is probably just due to the sunlight that is beginning to filter through the curtains, but Connor thinks that his eyes might look a bit lighter than usual, as though there is still traces of the amber-eyed wolf lingering in him. He looks sleepy, still, his hair mussed, and something in Connor's chest kind of elevates.

"Well," Elder Price says, sounding a bit embarrassed. "Yes."

"Can you still smell me, then?" Connor asks, beginning to feel self-consciousness spread in his body. He hasn't showered yet this morning, after all, and the summer heat leaves him feeling constantly covered in a layer of sweat.

"Mhm." Elder Price stretches his legs, adjusting his blanket, spots of red appearing on his cheeks. "I'm kind of... sensitive, around the full moon. But it's good," he hurries to say, as though he notices Connor's trepidation. "You smell nice. Warm."

"Oh." Connor studies his face for a few seconds, and Elder Price merely looks back, looking strangely satisfied. Maybe he is still wolf enough to feel pleased in the presence of what he apparently calls his "alpha". But strangely, Connor doesn't really feel very inclined to move, either. A glance at his alarm clock on the bedside table tells him it is still early, and Elder Thomas is still snoring softly on the other bed.

And Connor doesn't really plan to do it, maybe some irrational part of him thinks he can get away with it unnoticed because Elder Price's eyes are beginning to flutter close again. But then Connor stretches forward just a little to close the distance between them, kissing the corner of Elder Price's mouth softly. It's his first kiss, unless you count the numerous assaults on his mouth and face from an affectionate wolf tongue, which Connor really doesn't.

Elder Price's eyes blink open again.

"Sorry," Connor says, and somehow doesn't feel embarrassed at all. "You just--"

Looked really cute, he was going to say, but that _is_ actually a bit embarrassing to say. He shakes his head, the pillow rubbing against his warm cheek.

"It's fine," Elder Price says after a moment, looking oddly serene. He shifts carefully on the bed, and yeah, he probably still _is_ a bit in his wolf mindset because he ducks his head, nuzzles against Connor's neck, and relaxes.

And Connor lies still for a moment, considering the turn of events, before allowing himself to rest an arm over Elder Price’s body and letting himself relax, as well.


End file.
